


The surest poison is time

by middlemarch



Category: Sanditon (TV 2019), Sanditon - Jane Austen
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Angst, Ballroom, Coffee, Drabble, F/M, Friendship, Historical References, Letters, Male Friendship, Maybe Eliza can be something other than a complete villain, Regret, Relationship Advice, Sidney needs plenty, Sleepless nights, Tumblr: Sanditon Creative, and you've sold yourself, body and soul, how much coffee can Sidney Parker drink?, when your brother is a crazy real estate developer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:02:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22592971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/middlemarch/pseuds/middlemarch
Summary: Some morning, maybe a Tuesday. He'd stopped noticing after the carriage crested the hill and he realized he'd never kissed her goodbye.
Relationships: Charlotte Heywood/Sidney Parker, Eliza Campion/Sidney Parker, Georgiana Lambe & Sidney Parker, Lord Babington/Esther Denham, Sidney Parker & Tom Parker
Comments: 85
Kudos: 124





	1. Chapter 1

“Sanditon needs a coffee-house, Tom,” Sidney said, exhausted after a broken night. Mary never served the stuff, devoted to China tea. There was only so much a brandy could do shortly after dawn.

“Do you truly think so? It would be something, to have such a place, rarely seen outside a city the size of London. It would add a certain philosophical glamor, I should imagine,” Tom mused. Sanditon was always his favorite topic and he’d drone on and on…

“Yes. Quite,” Sidney said. He didn’t explain how his sleep was tormented by dreams of Charlotte, smiling, beckoning, beautiful. Lost.


	2. Chapter 2

“Whoever would have thought Sanditon would have its own coffee-house, Lord Babington?” Esther walked inside with her husband’s hand lightly laid upon her lower back. “Such a stimulus, for a place supposed to be a retreat.”

“There is room for both, isn’t there?” he answered. Sun flooded the room, a far cry from the gloom of the tavern he and Sidney had haunted when they’d first come to the seaside. Esther glanced at him, her gaze sharp, still sweet. He saw the memory of their waking in her eyes.

“It’s certainly a better place for Sidney to drown his sorrows.”


	3. Chapter 3

The coffee in its cup was dark as ink, swallowing the lump of sugar as if it had never been. But the sugar was stronger—invisible, it altered the taste of the brew. Sidney didn’t care for it overmuch but it was palatable. He felt no less tired of his life but more awake to its possibilities. No one, not Georgiana in a bitter rage, not Mary with her soft eyes, her softer smile, not even Lady Babington, her wit like Fuchs’s scalpel, curative, had given him such insight. 

There would be no rescue. Escape was all that was left.


	4. Chapter 4

_…And so, my dear Lady Susan, I felt I had no one to turn to but you. Or rather, no one but you would fully comprehend why my current situation is impossible; you are unique in my acquaintance in your immediate, astute assessment of Miss Heywood’s worth, her beauty, her wit and her candor. I place myself in your hands, your willing instrument for any plan you devise, and will count myself infinitely grateful for your assistance._

_With greatest esteem,  
Sidney Parker_

He laid the pen down, satisfied. No blots, the hand elegant. She’d be pleased and thus, she’d act.


	5. Chapter 5

“You won’t believe it, Sidney! There’s a new investor—but they won’t reveal their name,” Tom cried, his face flushed as if he were drunk. They’d met at the coffee-house, its overly warm fug making every man present wish to loosen his stock. He sipped at his coffee but not Tom; his brother took a gulp worth a scolding. Sidney didn’t bother—Tom would certainly have burned his tongue.

“Did you need one? Mrs. Campion’s funds seemed sufficient,” Sidney said.

“We won’t need a penny from her. Not now.” 

A secret investor. If it were Lady Susan, fine. If not?


	6. Chapter 6

Sidney had seen Mr. Stringer working on the pavilion. He was no longer _Young Stringer_ since his father’s death and he’d lost some of his earlier ease; Sidney had seen the same change in his own looking-glass, recognized it. The construction was very fine, the masonry the equal of anything in London, and there was an elegance, the evidence of an artist’s eye, that Tom could never have requested. Would never have thought to. 

Sidney hadn’t thought to see the man at the coffee-house, drinking a cup black.

“You’re being paid properly?”

“Aye. For now,” Stringer shrugged. Trust was costly.


	7. Chapter 7

_…I fear your gratitude is misplaced. For while I have applied myself assiduously to the repair of what was broken the night of Sanditon’s blaze, my priority was Miss Heywood’s tender heart itself and not the circumstance that led to its injury. Any advance your family may have received was not from me, nor any of my acquaintance. I advise you to have a care—for the motives of your benefactor are unknown and that poses its own risks, perhaps grave._

_I am, &c.,  
Lady Susan Worcester_

Sidney drank down his coffee, heedless of its heat. Who was Sanditon’s savior?


	8. Chapter 8

“So, if you don’t need my money, what do you want from me?” Eliza said. She’d insisted they take refreshments at the coffee-house, though Sidney could not imagine a location less appealing for such a conversation; they had only the slightest pretense at privacy and the world’s curiosity seemed unleashed by the fragrance of the brewing coffee.

“I’ve agreed to marry you. I shan’t go back on my word,” he said. He couldn’t answer her honestly and he couldn’t lie.

“That is only obligation, Sidney,” Eliza said softly. He heard the young girl he’d loved, her voice breaking her promise.


	9. Chapter 9

“I don’t like this,” Georgiana said. She meant the coffee, having grimaced at its bitterness, but she could have meant any number of things. England. Sanditon. Being his ward. Being orphaned, being gawked at, being treated as an ornament, an impediment, a goblin hoard. Losing everything, keeping nothing but her own heart, hatred safer than love. Once, Sidney would have shrugged, puffed on his cheroot, watching the smoke dance. He nodded.

“I’ll order some chocolate,” he offered.

“Fine. But that’s not what I was thinking of,” she said. He’d been simple once. Not Georgiana. “Will you tell her? And how?”


	10. Chapter 10

_…And so, dear Charlotte, I find myself writing as I never thought I would be, to inform you, should it still have any significance, that Mr. Sidney Parker and Mrs. Campion have broken their engagement; broken being perhaps too violent a word for their bloodless parting. I cannot say I like him, but I do find the affection he still bears for you the most compelling endorsement of his character, which appears to be most gentlemanly and sincere in your presence. The reverse is not true, but I don’t hold it against you. Shall you come?_

_Yours most affectionately,  
Georgiana_


	11. Chapter 11

The carriage was very elegant, the horses more so. They were perfectly matched, their haunches gleaming like black pearls, their harness brass polished to a gold sheen. The high street hadn’t seen anything like it in a month of Sundays, no matter what Tom boasted and the pavilion suddenly looked the way James Stringer said it might, like the province of lords; the day was equally fine, the sunlight so bright, so gentle, the homeliest face was touched with loveliness, every maid a princess, a fairy. Even Sidney, heartsore, wondered who was within.

The secret investor had arrived in Sanditon.


	12. Chapter 12

“No one expected it in the least,” Mary said in her confiding tone. She was a dear woman, better than Tom deserved, but there was part of Sidney ready to snap, to unleash his most venomous tone. She’d laid the table prettily and poured out the tea, but he wanted something richer, the coffee-house’s offering. Something that lingered on the tongue. _Charlotte_.

“Lady Babington, you know how cool she can be—they say she gasped aloud, fainted. Lord Babington caught her, tremendously heroic,” Mary remarked.

“She didn’t faint seeing Clara Brereton.”

“No, but seeing her _attached_ to the Bachelor Duke!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> William Spencer Cavendish, 6th Duke of Devonshire (21 May 1790 - 18 January 1858), was known as the Bachelor Duke, because he never married. He was a patron of the Whigs, but his absorbing passions were more cultural than political with deep interests in horticulture, literature, science and sculpture. Hart was a friend of the Prince Regent, later George IV, and carried the orb at his coronation in 1821. After his disappointment over Lady Caro Ponsonby, Hart did not embark upon any serious courtship. He did, however, appear to have had at least one mistress. He had a secret, ten-year relationship with Eliza Warwick from 1827, but little is known about her. (From RegencyHistory.net)


	13. Chapter 13

Clara Brereton, somehow now called Lady Hardwick, was the talk of Sanditon. _Charlotte had not come_. Lady Hardwick met with Tom, her attitude a mixture of importuning and imperiousness, reinstating Stringer’s pagoda, the jewels at her throat worth more than Sanditon House. _Charlotte did not come_. Esther went about with her lips pinched, drove her curricle too fast across the white sands, and rebuffed Lord Babington’s every public attempt to soothe her; his private caresses she accepted with desperate ardor. _Charlotte would not come_. Mary wrote and Georgiana sent another little note, one she even showed Sidney.

To no avail.


	14. Chapter 14

“Faint heart never won fair lady,” Babington said, slapping Sidney lightly on the back. “Truly, Sidney, what are you waiting for? You’re free again, your fortunes even better than before, God bless Lady Hardwick though never dare tell Esther I said that, and Miss Heywood isn’t engaged.”

“She won’t come here,” Sidney said. He’d drunk enough coffee to pay a planter’s debts. There was less truth in the drink than rum, but less agony.

“Go to her! How many times did I beseech Esther?”

“You hadn’t broken her heart, William. You only mended it,” Sidney said.

“Excuses. It’s beneath you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Faint heart never won fair lady:" This expression first appeared in writing in the work entitled _Adagia_ , a collection of Greek and Latin proverbs, compiled in the 1500s by Desiderius Erasmus Roterodamus.


	15. Chapter 15

He would hardly have recognized her. Her dress had been made for her this time, not hastily altered, and so it suited her far better than the gold silk had, or even the white that she’d worn to the Regatta. Lady Susan’s lady’s maid was French and it showed in the arrangement of Charlotte’s chestnut hair, the curls soft, the pearls woven through as if there was no skill involved. She danced more proficiently, but with her former exuberance only slightly dampened, and her dark eyes were bright. He could have watched her all night.

And then she saw him.


	16. Chapter 16

“Good evening, Mr. Parker.” Charlotte had never sounded so politely remote before though there was something about the way she held her mouth that made Sidney wonder what it cost her. He was dimly aware of the people around them, the music starting up. Charlotte was looking at him with an expression he couldn’t parse.  


“May I have this dance, Miss Heywood?” It would mean he could hold her, even if he couldn’t think of what to say. She nodded and let him take her gloved hand in his.

“Miss— Charlotte, I hardly know where to begin—”

“Not here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very little coffee the next few chapters-- mea culpa.


	17. Chapter 17

Somehow, Charlotte knew her way to the conservatory, which was a blessing. Sidney would have gotten them both hopelessly lost, or found a room far too secluded for Charlotte’s reputation to remain intact or one where anyone might walk in. He did not wish to win her hand through compromising her and he could not bear for anyone else to hear his halting words. The conservatory was full of flowers and leafy trees; it let in the moonlight without the chill.

“Do you like London?” he asked.

“I’m trying to find that out,” she said.

“And Sanditon, d’you miss it?”


	18. Chapter 18

“Is it much changed, Sanditon?” Charlotte asked. “The pavilion has been entirely rebuilt, I know.”

“It has improved, I think. Tom has let Mr. Stringer’s exemplary designs carry the day and his new investor, Lady Hardwick, makes him give her a proper accounting every fortnight,” Sidney said, striving to sound calm and courteous, when all he wanted was to embrace her, give her the kiss she hadn’t had when they’d parted, the kiss he wished to greet her with every morning. “There is a coffee-house now; it fosters quite lively philosophical discussions. You should enjoy it.”

“Are those the only differences?”


	19. Chapter 19

Lady Babington would box his ears if she saw how he was squandering his opportunity; Charlotte had asked a question he could only have dreamed of and he stood, dumb as a block of wood. The answer was simple—he was changed, freed from Eliza, and his heart was still hers, but the love he bore her could not be said to be the same. The nights without her, the whiskey dawns he’d seen and those horribly sober, speaking of her, wishing for her, considering how he’d hurt her, had altered his affections. The way a crucible worked liberating gold.


	20. Chapter 20

“I’ve learned a lesson,” Sidney said.

“My goodness, that’s an answer I cannot mistake! Mr. Sidney Parker to begin with humility,” Charlotte laughed fondly, almost concealing her trembling. “To admit to fallibility—or is it ignorance?”

“Both—and neither is sufficient,” he said, holding her gaze. And then, though he knew it was a risk, he took her in his arms, holding her far closer than when they had danced. He waited the space of a breath, enough time for a rejection, and then kissed her softly, but not briefly.

“You wished me every happiness but there is only this.”


	21. Chapter 21

“May I make a confession?” Charlotte asked, looking altogether too dear with one chestnut curl refusing the decorum of her coiffure, her ruby pendant nestled just below the hollow at the base of her throat, as Sidney had imagined when he’d commissioned it from the goldsmith.

“You may tell me anything you want, but it needn’t be a confession unless it’s a sin. Have you been wicked, Mrs. Parker?” Sidney said, relishing every word and the rosy flush in Charlotte’s cheeks, the mischievous gleam in her dark eyes.

“I like this coffee-house,” she said, “but I simply loathe the coffee!”

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Ralph Waldo Emerson.
> 
> This obviously begs for follow-up because as much of a jackass as Sidney is, I'm hard-pressed to leave him like this. And Sanditon does need a coffee-shop.


End file.
